


Love Hurts

by deathishauntedbyhumans



Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: (like they literally Briefly Discuss it), ....eventually, Anger, Awkward Tension, Brief discussion of bondage, Emotional Constipation, Fist Fights, Flashback narrative, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, M/M, One Shot, POV Third Person Limited, Some Humor, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, no beta we die like men, overreacting, the b. stands for bluntly ignoring his problems until they hit him in the face
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 07:44:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17914706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathishauntedbyhumans/pseuds/deathishauntedbyhumans
Summary: Peter B. is having a difficult time opening up about his feelings after Wade has already put his heart on the line. One way or another, things will work out... probably.





	Love Hurts

**Author's Note:**

> This is a dicombobulated, messy, disaster of a fic but... It’s a fic! that I’m posting! Here goes!

_“I love you,” Wade says, and it feels like a punch to his gut, and Peter doesn’t know what to say. He struggles to breathe, to find the words to tell him that he doesn’t know how to love, anymore, that Wade deserves someone more than a broken old ass like him, but all that comes out is a helpless puff of air._

_Wade isn’t pushing. He’s not expecting anything. Peter can see it in his face. He looks… not resigned, but… resolute, like he knows that Peter’s not ready to hear it._

_The way he says it isn’t harsh, or demanding. There’s no edge to it. It’s just a statement of fact. Wade makes it sound so damn simple, like it’s just a staple of existing. Water is wet. The sky is blue. Wade loves Peter._

_“I love you,” he says, and Peter’s heart breaks even more than it’s already broken._

 

The door to the X-Mansion is unguarded, just like it always is, but Peter’s nerves are so frayed that it’s hard to keep from peering around every bush he passes on the way up the front walk. His stomach is so twisted he thinks he might puke up the burger he’d had for lunch —no onions, _not for any reason in particular_ — and when he burps, he cringes, because _yikes_ , could he _get_ any nastier?

He shoots a web at the doorbell out of habit, and the sound of large, lumbering steps nearly have him dodging the sight of the opening door. Peter stays put, though, and offers a faint (albeit anxious) smile at Colossus when he answers the door.

Colossus takes one look at him and gets a knowing smile on his face. Peter… doesn’t like that smile.

“Wade!” Colossus calls into the house. “Your boyfriend is here!”

“Awh, you know I only have eyes for you, buttercup,” Peter hears Wade yell back. Even the sound of his voice makes Peter’s knees feel like jelly.

Colossus chuckles, and then waves a large hand at Peter. “Why don’t you come in?” he offers. “Mansion is very quiet today. Everyone is out except for myself, Wade, and Negasonic.”

“And Yukio!”

“And Yukio,” Colossus amends, smiling fondly at the pink-haired girl who’d popped out of nowhere to correct him. He smiles back.

“Hi, Peter!” Yukio calls out to him, and Peter waves weakly before following her inside, letting Colossus shut the door behind him. He immediately feels claustrophobic; the house is _huge_ , but it’s also a closed-off space with _Wade_ just behind a few walls, and Peter still isn’t sure what’s going to become of him once he crosses the distance to find him.

He doesn’t have long to think about it, because Wade crashes through one of the doorways to the entryway from somewhere else in the house a second after the front door clicks shut. “Wait, did you say Pe—? Peter!”

Peter stares at Wade, who visibly shrinks back after taking two steps into the room in his normal enthusiastic manner, as though it takes him that much time to realise that this isn’t a normal visit. When Wade leans against the wall, obviously in an attempt to mask his sudden drop of excitement, Colossus bustles past Peter and drops one large, silver hand down on Wade’s shoulder.

“Be a good host, Wade. Take him into sitting room. I will get lemonade.”

Before Peter can argue that neither of them need to spiff up on his account, Colossus gives Wade a gentle push towards the sitting room doorway that has the unmasked-merc stumbling something fierce. Colossus doesn’t seem to notice, and he hums something to himself as he heads through to what Peter knows is the hallway to the kitchen.

When he glances around again, Peter also notices that Yukio seems to have made herself scarce as well.

“Well, you heard the giant metal man,” Wade says, rubbing his shoulder with a grimace. “Come sit down. ‘He bring us lemonade,’” he adds, in a pretty shitty Russian accent. Peter can’t even find it in himself to laugh.

 

_“Wade, I don’t—“_

_“It’s cool, Spidey.” Peter cringes. Wade is still talking to him in that same factual, cool, overly detached tone. “I just needed to say it out loud, that’s all. We can go back to being frenemies—“ And Peter can’t believe Wade said the word ‘frenemies’ out loud, either. “—or we can pretend this never happened, or you can stop talking to me forever. But I had to say it. Sue me.”_

_Peter feels like his life is spiralling out of control, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. He’s tied to the train tracks and he can see the headlights of the train a mile away but even though he knows it’s coming, he can’t jump out of the way._

_“You don’t love me,” Peter chokes out, and Wade lets out a big, fake laugh and takes a step back. He crosses his arms loosely over his chest, but there’s so much tension in his shoulders, and Peter’s finding it harder and harder to breathe._

_“You can tell me a lot of shit, Petey, but you can’t tell me what I feel. That’s fucked up, d’you know that?”_

_“I’m not… Wade—“_

_“No, you’re not Wade. I’m Wade.” Wade gestures to himself in an exaggeratedly huge motion, then drops his hands and steps back. “God. Fuck. I— This is stupid. Forget about this entire conversation, alright?”_

_Peter reaches for him. “Wait, no—“_

_But Wade’s back is already to him, and he kicks open the roof-access door to the building they’ve been talking atop of. “Later, Spider-Man.”_

 

“So.” Peter says, and stops. It’s awkward, _he’s_ awkward, and Wade isn’t helping anything by refusing to look at him. He’s draped in an armchair, legs over one side of the armrest, and his gaze is fixed firmly on the ceiling. Peter is stiff in his seat on the couch.

“Sooooo.” Wade says back, drawing out the word and kicking up one leg, only to drop it down against the side of the chair with a stupidly satisfying _thud_.

“It’s been awhile,” Peter says slowly. Maybe if he eases into a conversation, it won’t be so bad.

Wade doesn’t seem very keen on helping. “Mmm.”

“Have you been busy?”

“Eh.” Wade kicks the chair again. Peter watches the cloud of dust that rises from the fabric and tries not to make a face.

“Nice weather we’re having,” Peter says after a beat. Wade hums again, and Peter slumps down a little into the cushions of the couch. This isn’t working like he’d planned.

Not that he’d actually _had_ any kind of plan. Ugh. Maybe _making a plan_ should’ve been the first step of his damn plan to come here in the first place.

“Why are you here?” Wade asks suddenly, and Peter is both caught off guard and immensely glad that Wade is cutting to the point. If he has to keep talking about the _weather_ to keep silence from falling again, he might just ask to borrow one of Wade’s guns and shoot himself instead.

“I want to apologise,” Peter says, just rushed enough to sound as unplanned as it feels. The statement is met with _more goddamn resounding silence._ Wade isn’t responding, isn’t speaking, and expectancy hangs heavy in the air between them. Peter doesn’t like it, but he probably deserves it, he muses to himself bitterly.

Wade rolls over, so that he’s curled up in the chair and facing the back of it, and Peter wants to groan. Yeah, he might deserve it, but Wade doesn’t _have_ to make this so difficult.

“I shouldn’t have…” _shouldn’t have pushed you away. shouldn’t have hurt you. should have talked to you. should have stopped you from leaving. “_...reacted the way I did.”

“Yeah.” It’s all Wade says, all he _has_ to say, and it’s _bitter,_ like the rind of a putrid lemon left too long in the sun. Peter flinches like he’s been hit; he can’t help it.

It’s not _fair_ , Peter thinks to himself, glaring towards Wade’s stiff shoulder blades. This is hard for him! Emotions are the fucking _worst_ , and if Wade knows anything about him, he should know how difficult it is for him to _feel_ anything, much less _talk_ about those feelings. But Wade gets to sit there in his stupid chair and act the injured party, and Peter has to play catch-up to try and appease him.

It’s not _fair_ , Peter thinks, and it _pisses him off_.

Anger washes over him, a red sort of haze that settles over the room and changes the energy inside of it. Peter’s body feels like it’s buzzing with _something_ , something chaotic and wild and heady. It feels good in the worst way possible, so he embraces it, because that’s what he’s always done with every vice he’s ever gotten hung up on.

The most important thing about the anger, though, is that it washes away the guilt, the self-pity, the self-hatred. It kills the thought that this might be his fault and pins the blame back on Wade. If Wade hadn’t opened his big mouth about his goddamn _feelings,_ they wouldn’t be sitting here right now. They’d probably be sitting on their asses at some burrito place downtown laughing about the sauce Wade was snorting out his nose, or the bird shit that had landed on one of their heads, or something else equally ridiculous.

Instead, they’re _here_ , and it’s all. Wade’s. fault.

“If you’d stayed on the roof and actually _talked_ to me instead of running away, we wouldn’t be in this mess,” Peter shoots at Wade after a pause that feels like eternity. The air between them is charged with electricity. It’s a bad kind of electricity, the kind of stark sizzle that usually occurs right before a lightning strike. Peter is _reveling_ in it.

“Excuse me?” Wade hasn’t moved, but when Peter focuses on him, he can see tension where there hadn’t been tension before, and Wade’s voice is dangerously pleasant. “What did you just say to me?”

“I said,” Peter repeats evenly, ignoring the warning signs. “That if you’d stayed and _talked_ to me back on the roof, _Wilson_ , we wouldn’t be sitting here right now. I shouldn’t be the one that has to apologise for your-- your--” He stumbles, trying to find the right word. “Pigheadedness.”

The phrase brings Ham to mind for a split second, which then corresponds to Peter imagining Deadpool as a pig instead of a man, which is… _startlingly_ uncomfortable. He banishes the thought and holds onto his anger, instead, and watches as Wade very slowly, very precisely turns in the chair until he’s sitting upright, fingers digging into the armrests.

“If I remember correctly, _Parker_ , you didn’t have anything else to say. Why would I bother sticking around for that?” Wade says through gritted teeth, the question barely a question at all with how strained it comes out. Peter feels a sick sort of satisfaction in getting a rise out of him.

He should stop, he knows. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Peter is well-aware that Wade is a force to be reckoned with, that his own anger is more unfounded than it feels. But he doesn’t care. That’s the thing: it might be shitty, but this feels like the first time in ages that Peter has felt something other than resounding _confusion_ and _sadness_ and _guilt._ The anger is cleansing, and he doesn’t _want_ to just let that go.

“Anything would’ve been better than storming off like a _coward_ ,” Peter spits, and he can _feel_ the moment Wade snaps.

The air shifts, charge igniting as Wade jumps out of his chair. Peter moves on instinct, letting the vibration of his enhanced senses guide him to roll from his spot on the couch to the other side and then up to his feet. It’s ungraceful; he can’t always _do_ the things he wants his body to do anymore, but he does manage to get out of the way of Wade’s hands, which shove themselves with a _thump_ into the cushions where Peter’s neck had been only seconds before.

 

_“Wade!”_

_There’s no use in yelling after him. Wade is already gone, and Peter wants to kick himself. He glares at the door, hanging uselessly half-open on its hinges, before turning away in disgust and kicking a pebble off the edge of the roof. It goes skittering across the shitty concrete before disappearing._

_Wade loves him. It doesn’t feel possible, because… Shit, because Wade is Wade, and that means that Wade is detached and flirtatious without cause and never takes anything seriously. So… Wade can’t love him._

_But he does._

_There’s only a handful of times Peter has ever seen Wade get serious, but there’s a look he gets in his eye when it happens that Peter has come to recognise well. And he’d had that look. He’d… had that look._

_So. Wade loves him. And Peter--_

_Peter loves Wade._

_Fuck._

**_Fuck_ ** **.**

_When did that happen?! Wade is brash and loud and obnoxious! Peter doesn’t love him. Peter can’t love him. Peter loves MJ. (Even though MJ doesn’t love Peter. MJ hasn’t loved him for years, and Peter’s had to accept that, even if he hates it more than he hates waking up most mornings.) Peter loves…_

**_Wade._ **

_Peter loves Wade. He doesn’t not love MJ anymore, but he just… loves Wade, too._

_Alright. Fine. This is fine. This is absolutely fine. Peter isn’t freaking out at all. He loves… Wade. Okay. Great. He can deal with this._

_Except… Wade is gone, and from the sound of it, he isn’t coming back anytime soon. Which leaves the stupid metaphorical ball in Peter’s court._

_God, he_ **_really_ ** _doesn’t want to go the the X-Mansion._

 

With a wordless, angry growl, Wade pushes off from the couch, but he doesn’t get far before Peter launches himself at him. He manages to snag an arm around Wade’s middle and drag him down to the floor in what might’ve been called a body slam if it were more controlled. As it is, Peter gets him down, but he doesn’t pin him long enough to stop Wade from struggling out of his grip.

“Fuck you,” Wade spits out as he gets a good shot in at Peter’s ribs from the floor, and Peter’s breath rushes out of him hard and all at once.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” Peter wheezes out, kicking out with one leg. It feels ridiculously good to egg Wade on, to fight him like this, to get his hands on him. His leg doesn’t connect with anything but air, but it doesn’t matter, because he’s riding on an adrenaline high that he’s been craving ever since his heart crushed itself at Wade’s admission of his feelings.

Wade gets a hand on his leg and pushes it down, shoving it so hard against the floor that Peter can feel his bones protest. “You didn’t have to come here,” he says, and he’s _angry_ , but they’re close enough now that Peter can see the hurt behind the anger in Wade’s eyes. He knows Wade so well, so much better than he ever consciously realised he did. “You should have just stayed the fuck away from me.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to,” Peter responds, struggling to find a hole in Wade’s physical defences. He’s speaking on instinct, more intent on assessing the damage their fight is causing than anything he’s actually saying. His leg is definitely trapped, but Wade is still attempting to scramble on top of him, so Peter shoves him in the chest and follows up by shooting a web at one of Wade’s hands. It misses, just barely, but it throws Wade off enough for Peter to gain the upper hand.

“Why the _fuck--”_ Wade begins, but Peter shoves him down hard enough to hear Wade’s back thud dully against the rug on the floor and pins his arms at the wrists, and Wade stops talking in favour of struggling wildly against the hold.

Despite Wade’s incessant movement, though, Peter is _strong_. He’s stronger than Wade is, definitely; he’s pretty sure even he, himself, forgets how strong he is sometimes, because it’s not always something he has to think about. But he holds Wade in place easily, and after a moment or so, Wade stops struggling altogether and just stares up at him, chest heaving.

Peter is breathing heavily, matching Wade as they both work to catch their breaths. Wade jerks in his grip once more, his upper body trying and failing to twist out of Peter’s hands, but Peter holds fast. Wade is no longer looking at him.

As quickly as the anger had come upon him, Peter can feel it seeping out of his chest, his shoulders, leaving him feeling awkward and bone-tired and _stupid._

“Fuck,” Wade all-but-whispers, and Peter feels him shift. He doesn’t feel like he’s trying to get away, but he looks…

“Wade.”

When Wade continues to avoid his gaze, Peter swallows hard and slowly, slowly leans down, until his forehead is pressed up against Wade’s. Wade makes a sniffling noise; he lets Peter do it, though, without trying to move his head away again.

“I’m sorry,” Peter says softly. He’s sure this would look ridiculous to anyone walking in on them: two grown men rolling around on the floor like teenagers, throwing shitty punches at each other and then losing the urge to fight. It _feels_ ridiculous.

“Fuck you,” Wade replies, but there’s no venom to it. He sounds just as exhausted as Peter feels, actually.

Peter can’t stay the way he’s sitting for long: his back hurts from bending over and his crotch is dangerously close to Wade’s and his ribs are already starting to ache. Getting old was hell enough without getting into brawls like this to make it worse. 

Carefully, Peter releases Wade’s hands, as though testing the waters. After determining that, yes, he’s safe, Wade isn’t going to try and murder him again, he slips off of him and stands, offering Wade a hand. Wade stares at the hand suspiciously for a second too long before accepting it.

Peter doesn’t let Wade pull his hand away. Instead, he keeps ahold of it and leads Wade back to the couch, ignoring the heavy, wary look he can _feel_ Wade throwing his direction.

“Let me start over,” Peter says, and it’s both a request and a plea. Wade doesn’t meet his gaze. He nods stiffly.

Peter takes it for what it is. “I’m an idiot,” he begins with, and has to bite back a wry smile when Wade blinks in surprise and actually jerks his head up. “I’m a complete and utter idiot, and I don’t deserve to have someone as… wholly incredible as you love me.”

“Peter, don’t—“

“No, hold on.” Peter squeezes Wade’s hand, and for once, Wade shuts his mouth. “Let me finish. I… I have a point. I promise.”

Wade is watching him skeptically. He nods again.

“I fell in love with MJ all at once. I know you know the story. You’ve seen me piss-drunk enough times to have heard it over and over and over again. I fell in love with her… It was love at first sight, Wade. But with you… God, it’s been so different. I couldn’t stand you the first time we met.” A fond smile slips out over Peter’s lips without his direct control, so he lets it happen without spending the energy it would take to fight it. “And then, every single time we talked after that, I think I fell a tiny bit more in love with you.”

Wade sucks in a sharp breath. “Peter—“

“Wade.” Peter shakes his head, looking at him imploringly. Wade’s hand twitches in his own, but he nods a third time.

“I didn’t know how it was supposed to feel. To be completely honest, I still don’t really understand it. It feels different, but also… similar to how I feel about MJ. And then you—“ Peter laughs, brokenly. “You told me you loved me, Wade, and everything in me _hurt_ because I’ve never been able to figure it out and everything was clicking into place at the same time. And you didn’t even give me a chance… Not that I really deserved it. I should have at least _tried_ to tell you that I— I don’t know, that I needed a minute? You put yourself in a vulnerable place, and I kicked you in the junk.”

“Almost literally,” Wade says quietly. He’s not smiling, but there’s a note of humour that Peter _just_ picks up on.

Peter traces the back of Wade’s scarred knuckles with his thumb. The skin is rough under the pad of his finger, but Peter doesn’t really mind. Actually, it’s… nice. Very different from holding MJ’s hand, but warm and _real_ and good all the same.

“And then I got here, and I let myself get… overwhelmed, again. I’m an idiot, Wade, but… Shit. I’m— I’m an idiot who loves you, so I really hope that counts for something.”

Wade lets out a breath, air whooshing unceremoniously from between his lips. “You’re a mess,” he states, and Peter takes the insult for what it is and lets it run off of him like water from a duck’s back.

“But you love me,” Peter ventures to say, quietly, like if he speaks too loud he’ll shatter something precious.

“Yeah.” Wade’s voice cracks, and Peter can just barely detect a flush under the heavy scarring of his face. “I do, Petey. God-or-whatever-the-genderless-being-in-the-sky-is help me, I do.”

Peter feels a little like laughing and a little like crying and a little like yelling to the heavens, so he… very carefully does not do any of those things. Instead, he reaches for Wade’s other hand and takes it. Wade lets him take it. The smile Peter offers feels tumultuous, but it’s _real,_ and Wade _slowly, slowly_ smiles back at him.

“I’m sorry,” Peter repeats, and Wade squeezes both of his hands lightly.

“Yeah, yeah, alright. I know. It’s… Y’know, it’s a little bit my fault, too, Spider-babe.” It’s the same way Wade’s always flirted with him, with the too many cutesy nicknames gig, but for the first time ever, Peter actually doesn’t hate it, or feel weirdly torn-up about it. He _likes_ it. If that’s not some fucking character growth, Peter had no idea what character growth would even look like. “I should’ve given you time to process. I just… didn’t want to get rejected, y’know?”

“Yeah.” Peter _gets_ it, hardcore. “I know, DP. I get it.”

Wade lets out a soft sigh. “Yeah. I guess you do, huh.”

“We’re both disasters, huh,” Peter says after a moment, and Wade nods. “Yeah. But maybe it won’t be so bad—“

“—if we’re disasters together?” Wade finishes for him, giving him a look, and Peter shrugs, a little chagrined.

“Look, it might be cheesy, but that doesn’t make it any less true.”

Wade snorts. “Don’t turn this into a Hallmark movie, baby boy. I don’t know if I can handle that.”

Peter grins at him, and after a second, Wade finally breaks and grins back. Peter’s back is aching, and he’s pretty sure that he’s going to have bruises on his ribs from where Wade caught him, but it’s worth it to have this moment together, with Wade smiling at him like the sun.

“I have lemonade!” Colossus calls out suddenly from just beyond the doorway. His steps are lumbering and heavy —and getting closer— but when Wade makes an attempt to tug his hands away, Peter holds fast.

 _Really?_ Wade’s incredulous look asks him. Peter lets his features fall into a soft, natural smile and nods, and Wade breaks into another grin.

“Oh, good,” Colossus says, setting a tray down on a table near the door. “You have not killed one another. I am very proud of you, Wade.”

Peter looks away from Wade to raise his eyebrows at Colossus. “Hey! What about me!”

“No offence, Spider-Man, but in a fight between you and Deadpool, I have to say Deadpool wins,” Colossus replies, sounding apologetic. “Is nothing personal. Deadpool is merely… mostly unkillable.”

Wade leans towards Peter conspiratorially, but makes no actual effort to lower his voice. “If you ever wanna test that out, sweetcheeks, I know _several_ fun bedroom experiments that we could—“

“I do not want to hear it, Wade!” Colossus shoves his hands over his ears. “Enjoy lemonade!” he yells, and then leaves the room, hands still firmly clasped against the sides of his face.

Peter waits until the metal mutant is officially out of range before dropping Wade’s hands and reaching out to settle his hands on Wade’s hips instead. Wade looks surprised for all of two seconds before his expression shifts to something _absolutely fucking delighted._

“You were talking about fun bedroom experiments?” Peter says innocently, and Wade practically _bounces_ in place, his hands fluttering about before looping around to rest on the back of Peter’s neck.

“Ooh, you have no _idea_ what you’re up against, Petey-Man,” Wade says, pure excitement oozing off of him. Peter just chuckles in response and tugs him a little closer. Sure, it’s weird, but then again, being in love with Wade isn’t the _weirdest_ thing he’s ever dealt with. (The _fucking multiverse_ pretty much takes the cake on that one.)

“Have you ever dabbled in bondage?” Wade asks, a shit-eating grin starting on his face, and Peter feels like his lips are going to _split_ from how wide he’s suddenly grinning. Yeah. Being in love with Wade isn’t going to be easy, but it’s sure as hell going to be _fun._  


**Author's Note:**

> Peter “the b stands for bluntly ignoring my problems until they literally hit me in the face” Parker strikes again ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> Kudos/comments are love! Come scream at me on tumblr @deathishauntedbyhumans


End file.
